


Make Me Dream When I’m Awake

by Lokne



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Child Neglect, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Echizen Ryouma, Genderswap, Literal Sleeping Together, Loneliness, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Ryoma needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokne/pseuds/Lokne
Summary: Echizen Ryoma hated the rain. The icy droplets slipping down the back of her shirt made her shiver and huddle deeper into her coat.
Relationships: Akutagawa Jiro/Female Echizen Ryoma
Kudos: 32





	Make Me Dream When I’m Awake

**Author's Note:**

> A repost of an old fic of mine.

Echizen Ryoma hated the rain. The icy droplets slipping down the back of her shirt made her shiver and huddle deeper into her coat. She should have checked the weather forecast, but the sound of the TV was too loud in the empty house. It made her miss her dad, even though he was the one who left her behind. So Ryoma had walked past the living room and grabbed a coat to block the autumn chill that she could feel in the air.

She swiped the wet hair that clung to her face and neck away. She could see her breath in small white puffs, and for a brief moment she wondered if she would ever be warm again. The melancholy thought brought tears to her eyes. She hated this. The rain. The empty house. Being alone. 

When her dad announced that he was returning to the Pro circuit after a decade of retirement, she had been both overjoyed and angry. Ryoma had been told for years that the reason why Samurai Nanjiroh retired from professional tennis was to raise her. Ryoma had won countless titles and awards, for the sport that both she and her dad loved, but she was never good enough to challenge him. She scored her first point against him when she was twelve, but he had already been playing professionally for two years, and that one point wasn’t worth it.

Ryoma noticed the speculative gleam and the excitement in his eyes when he talked about the people that he was playing. They had more experience, they were better, and they weren’t a fifteen-year-old girl. Nanjiroh had offered to take her with him the first few times that he needed to leave for a tournament, but Ryoma refused and came up with every excuse she could think of. She didn’t need the extra pain of seeing him play better than he ever had before against someone that  _ wasn’t _ her. Soon enough, he stopped asking.

Three months later, Ryoga transferred colleges and settled on John Hopkins in America. He decided that he would rather treat professional tennis players than become a professional tennis player. He sent her a card for her birthday and called her at Christmas. He was swamped with labs and studying.

So when her mother started to spend more and more hours at the office and less time at home, it didn’t take long for Ryoma to loathe going home. It held too many happy memories. The dark corridors and bleak kitchen only added to her depression. She slumped against the bus stop and ignored the pounding rain. It would have been quicker to walk home, but she wanted it to take as long as possible. 

Ryoma breathed on her freezing hands to warm them up, and then shoved them back into her coat pockets. A few other students waited next to her, but she didn’t talk to them. She never talked to them. The bus rumbled to a stop as it splashed water on the sidewalk with a huge gush. Ryoma stared at the open door with confusion. She was cold but did she really want to go home? No. She didn’t. She desperately didn’t want to go back. She turned away when the driver called to her and started walking aimlessly. No one was expecting her back any time soon, so why did it matter?

Ryoma watched the passing cars, racing through the sodden streets and splashing water at one another. She could never understand why someone would like the rain. It was dreary and sullen. The clouds were ominous and the color of ash. It was depressing and made her want to sleep until the sun came up and birds sang.

“Echizen.”

Ryoma looked up when she didn’t feel the rain on her face and meet the gaze of a boy holding a bright green umbrella. She squinted at him because she knew she had met him somewhere but she couldn’t remember his name. And since she attended so many tennis matches over the years, it was logical that they had been introduced at one. Her eyes darted down and read the name on his uniform. Hyotei. He was the boy that had been sleeping until Kabaji woke him up. She still couldn’t remember his name, though.

“You’re Hyotei’s Kikumaru.” She waved her hands in a demonstration that was supposed to portray his actions while he played tennis. He had been so excited while playing Fuji and had a bubbly personality when he wasn’t snoozing.

His shoulders slumped. “Close enough. What are you doing here?”

Ryoma stared at him with bafflement. She wasn’t sure where  _ here _ was. She hadn’t considered a destination and just walked. She glanced to his right and noticed the Hyotei Academy plaque. Huh. She shrugged. 

“Well you shouldn’t be out in the rain, you’ll get sick! Don’t you have a tournament coming up?”

He knew when she was playing? “Yeah.” 

He watched her as if he were expecting a longer explanation. “Is your house—?”

“No.” She didn’t want to go back. Not now. It was almost dinner time and she would have to cook a meal only for her. The thought of sitting in the dining room alone was almost too much to bear. Even the company of Karupin didn’t help most nights. She was tired of talking to a cat that couldn’t talk back.

“Okay. Well, why don’t you come over for dinner? Mom and Dad won’t mind. They always make extra and you can get warmed up.” He grabbed her hand and started walking back the way she came.

His hand was warm. It felt calming around her cold fingers. She didn’t protest as they continued to walk several minutes in silence. The umbrella kept the rain off of them and Ryoma started shivering again. She didn’t even remember his name and he hadn’t told her, but she felt safe in his company. There was something easygoing about him, as if hurting her or scaring her was the furthest thing from his mind. And as much as Seigaku and Hyotei were rivals on the court, they trusted each other. They were friends, and Ryoma knew that this boy would do nothing to ruin that.

Ryoma sighed gratefully when they entered the warm house. She took off her tennis shoes and socks and piled them near the door. He removed her sodden coat and hung it up in the coat closet. The hot air felt amazing against her skin as she looked at the vibrant house.

“I’m home!” he called.

An older woman stepped from the kitchen and smiled at her son. “Welcome home, Jiro.” She looked at Ryoma and scolded them. “She’s soaked to the bone. Go get a change of clothes for her while I run a bath.” She prodded Ryoma toward the bathroom.

“His name’s Jiro,” Ryoma muttered, though not quiet enough because his mother heard.

She glanced up in surprise while the tub filled with warm water. “Yes, it is. You followed him home . . .”

“I’m from Seigaku. I met him a few years ago during a tennis tournament,” Ryoma explained. She didn’t want the woman to think she randomly followed strange men home. Ryoma dropped her wet clothes on the floor and carefully stepped into the half-filled bathtub. She sighed with pleasure as the warmth seeped into her. Her mom hadn’t drawn a bath for her in years. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about all the things she wasn’t able to do with her family anymore. They were drifting apart and she didn’t know what to do.

“Something wrong, dear?”

Ryoma shook her head. She knew the lady was being kind, but after so many nights alone it was hard. She knew that not everyone’s family was like hers, but she never thought she would have to see evidence in person. It hurt more than she thought it would. She dunked her head under the water to get rid of her tears and warm the rest of her body up. By the time she came up for air, Jiro’s mom was gone and a new set of clothes were next to a fluffy towel.

She languished in the bath until it turned tepid and her skin pruned. Ryoma quickly dried herself off and pulled on the sweat pants and screen T-shirt Jiro had given her. She chuckled at the slogan: Living Proof That Beauty Sleep Works. His mom must have given it to him as a gag gift. She pulled on the huge, thick socks and smiled. Ryoma combed her hair until she couldn’t feel any knots and wandered out of the bathroom in search of food.

The smell of curry had taunted her for the last ten minutes. She hadn’t had a home-cooked meal—that someone else fixed—in ages. Ryoma fidgeted when she noticed they were talking around the kitchen table. Had she taken too long? Wouldn’t it be rude to interrupt their meal?

“They fit. Good. I wasn’t sure since Jiro has broader shoulders but you . . . well, you know.” Ryoma had curves. A grin quirked her lips. “Come on. Don’t be shy. My name’s Himiko and my husband is Daisuke. ”

Ryoma giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. She had never been called shy before, and the last time she giggled was months ago. She felt heat rise to her face as she shuffled over to the table and sat down at the only empty chair. 

“Is there a reason why she’s wearing  _ that _ shirt?” his mother teased.

Jiro flushed and glanced away. “It was on top of the pile.”

She winked at Ryoma and started eating dinner. “Of course.”

Ryoma watched the byplay with fascination. Was this how normal families acted during dinner? They talked about random things. She blew on the curry before putting it in her mouth. The flavors exploded in her mouth and she moaned her appreciation. A dropped spoon made her gaze dart from Himiko to Jiro. Had she done something wrong?

Himiko’s smiled widened. “I’m glad you like it. Now, I must admit that I don’t know anything about you. My son hasn’t even told me your name.”

Ryoma gulped down her mouthful. “Echizen Ryoma. I play singles one for Seigaku.” Ryoma felt glad that his parents understood tennis, so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. She was surprised when she wanted to say something more but couldn’t think of anything to talk about. Normally when she talked to her dad they discussed how his match went, Ryoga mostly talked about how his classes were going, and her mom wanted to know more about school and her grades. A frown furrowed her brow. When was the last time she had a meaningful conversation with any of them?

“Ryoma?”

“Hm?” Ryoma ate another spoonful of curry and pushed the sad thoughts away. They didn’t belong here.

“Is there anyone at home we should call, to let them know you’re staying for dinner?” Daisuke asked.

Ryoma bit her lip. Her mom wouldn’t be home for another four hours and by then she would fix a snack and then crash on the couch. Ryoma wouldn’t be missed. She shook her head and went back to eating. There were a few moments of silence, and then the conversation picked up again. She chimed in every now and then when she was asked a direct question, but mostly stayed silent and ate. She was glad that she didn’t have to talk much. They seemed to not mind her short answers.

She yawned and covered it up, though another one quickly followed. She felt drained. The stress of the last few days attacked her all at once, leaving her drowsy and inattentive. She valiantly tried to keep her eyes open and mostly succeeded. 

Ryoma forced herself awake when she felt Himiko shake her shoulder. “Why don’t you take a nap; you look exhausted? Jiro already laid down the futon in his bedroom, and there is a toothbrush you can use in the bathroom across from the hall.”

Ryoma wanted to protest that she needed to get home, but the truth was that she didn’t. She had nowhere to be tonight and a warm bed sounded amazing. She nodded and trailed after Jiro as he showed her his room. It was larger than hers and felt homey. His full sized bed was shoved against the wall near a window. A short bookcase littered with manga and fiction books was stuffed to the seams. He had a desk across from his bed that had schoolbooks and random pieces of junk. Posters of famous tennis players and boy bands were plastered on his walls. 

Ryoma stumbled a few more feet and flopped on the futon was a grunt. She didn’t care about brushing her teeth. An ear-splitting yawn emerged as she snuggled under the blankets. She thought she heard an amused chuckle, but she couldn’t be sure. Ryoma thought about asking Jiro what was amusing but she drifted off to sleep before the words made it past her lips.

—X—

Ryoma wandered around the empty, dark house searching for the light switch. She knew where it was but her fingers weren’t long enough to reach! She scrabbled at the wall, trying to find it as she grew more and more desperate. She hated the dark. The dark was vast and impenetrable. It swallowed up every happy feeling she had and left her with loneliness. 

“Ryoga!” she yelled. “Dad? Mom?” The house swallowed up the sound as soon as it left her mouth. She tried again and again, but they never answered. She collapsed to the ground and huddled against the wall. Her fingers clenched in her hair as she rocked back and forth. She didn’t want to be alone. She hated being alone.

A loud snore jolted Ryoma awake. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and gazed around the bedroom with confusion. Where was she? She looked over her shoulder and smirked at Jiro, who was sleeping with one foot off the bed and his blanket around his ankles. Jiro saved her. He took her home. Feeling the chill of the nightmare, she shuddered under the blankets. The house was still except for his snores. The floor felt like a black hole that would swallow her if she didn’t move. 

Ryoma threw off the covers and shoved Jiro over to the other side of the bed. She snorted when he complied and continued snoring. He slept like the dead. No wonder it was so hard to wake him up for a tennis match. Ryoma pulled the covers over her shoulders and sighed in relief when the panic went away. She had shared the bed with Ryoga many times when she was younger, and tonight she didn’t want to sleep alone. She smiled sleepily when an arm draped over her waist and fell back asleep, feeling safe and protected.

—X—

The rising sun came far too early in her opinion. Last night she had lamented about the dark clouds and rain and now she was dissatisfied with sunshine. She squinted through the brightness and didn’t move. She was warm and she still had ten minutes until she had to get up. Ryoma looked at Jiro, who hadn’t moved since he wrapped her in his arms sometime during the night. His grip was firm and reassuring, though a little unsettling since she was so close to him. 

She tried to get away and make it seem as if she hadn’t snuck into his bed, but it was no use. He was stuck like an octopus. Ryoma jabbed an elbow in his side and rolled to the edge of the bed when he shot awake with a curse.

“Wha—?”

She smirked at his expression. He was adorable. “Breakfast and then school.”

He lied back down and pulled the covers over his head. “I’m calling in sick. I didn’t get fourteen hours of sleep last night.”

Ryoma stared at him in shock. Was he serious? She thought that the few times she had seen him knocked out was because he was exhausted. No one needed to sleep that long. “I heard Tezuka mention something about asking Atobe to train with them for a week.”

He peeked out of the covers and glared at her, eliciting a smile. “You are evil!” He shoved the covers back and muttered about how he was going to defeat Fuji and even the score once and for all.

Ryoma heard a few voices in the hall as she waited for Jiro to be finished with the bathroom. She nodded to Himiko and quickly performed her morning ablutions. She shucked his clothes and put on the ones she had worn the day before. They felt softer and warm on her skin, as if they had just come from the dryer.

She called out a greeting to Jiro’s parents as she sat down to breakfast and ate the boiled fish and rice. She loved Japanese breakfasts more than Western. Having a cold bowl of cereal would never taste as good as rice. It also didn’t fill her up and she would feel hungry later.

“I made you a bento. I wasn’t sure what all you—”

Ryoma’s chopsticks almost fell from her grasp. How could a mom be so generous and loving? First Himiko drew Ryoma a bath, gave her clothes, let her sleep in her son’s room, washed her uniform, and now she made her lunch! Ryoma loved her mom, but she wished that she had chosen a different career that would allow them to spend more time together.

“It’ll be perfect,” Ryoma said. And it would be. Even if the eggs were burnt and the rice was horrible—though she knew it wouldn’t be—Ryoma would eat it all because someone had made it for her with love.

Ryoma gobbled down the rest of the meal when she noticed the time was getting late. She couldn’t afford to be tardy. The teacher would call her mom and her mom was too busy for that sort of thing. She grabbed Jiro’s hand and yanked him to his feet. “C’mon.” She impatiently waited for him to finish putting on his shoes and thanked Himiko and Daisuke for their hospitality. Their “Come again!” sounded so sincere that it brought tears to her eyes.

She gazed at the bright blue sky as they walked. Hyotei was in the opposite direction from her school and she was surprised when Jiro turned left instead of right. He was walking her to school. Ryoma watched him when he yawned again. She knew he would probably fall asleep as soon as he got to school, and he was taking the extra time to make sure she got there safely. 

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the thought. Jiro was willing to give up his sleep for her. It was a ridiculous thought because Himiko could have ordered him to walk her, but she liked to think he wanted to. Heat flushed her face as she stared at him. He was handsome. His auburn hair flared red and brown in the sunlight, making her think of cinnamon. His eyes bleary with sleep were the color of almonds. He was lean and fit from tennis practice and towered over her by at least five inches. Her gaze shot to his hands that she had seen hold a tennis racket, and an umbrella to protect her from the rain, and wondered what they would feel like if she held them.

He was interesting in a non-tennis way. Yes he played tennis very well, on par with Fuji, but he made her think about things that had no connection to tennis. Like holding hands, eating ice cream, long walks, and taking a nap. She shook her head at her folly and thanked him when they reached Seigaku. She hated the thought of never seeing him again unless it was at tennis matches, but she didn’t know how to say it. She was never good with words.

“I’ll pick you up after school and we can walk home.”

Did he just—? She smashed the elation when she realized the specific wording. “My house is—”

He sighed in exasperation. “Look. You don’t want to go home—for whatever reason, and my mom likes you. She said you could stay for a few days if you wanted to, but you have to tell your guardian where you are. She doesn’t want your mom or dad worried about you.”

Ryoma really didn’t want to call and ask her mom for permission, but she doubted that her mom would even care. Ryoma knew her mom loved her, but she knew that there were times when her mom didn’t know what to do with her. Ryoma love tennis more than shopping and makeup. She only wore dresses on special occasions and loathed the pleated skirts that were part of the Seigaku uniform. But if her mom knew she was safe and being cared for it would probably take away some of her stress. “Okay. I’ll call after dinner tonight.”

“Sounds good. Have a good day at school.”

Ryoma couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to her. It was a weird feeling. She smirked to cover her insecurity. “Have a good time sleeping during class.”

Jiro grinned. “I will.”

Ryoma waved him away and walked through the entryway of the school so she could change into her indoor shoes. She swerved around Horio, Kachiro and Katsuo, who she knew were looking for her, and headed straight for homeroom. She was so grateful there hadn’t been any homework the night before. Classes passed by slower than normal. They seemed to ooze by, and she kept glancing at the clock.

As soon as the lunch bell rang she was off like a shot to the regular table. The familiarity felt soothing as she watched them snark and steal each other’s food. She ate another rolled omelet and tasted the pepper and ham that Himiko had snuck in there. It tasted amazing.

“Ah, you brought a bento, Ochibi, no fair! Share!” Kikumaru demanded as he opened his mouth like a baby bird.

Ryoma shook her head and pulled away. There was no way she was sharing this with anyone. She stabbed Momoshiro’s hand when he tried to filch a riceball. “Mine!” She guarded her meal from the rest of the regulars until they got tired of getting hit and glared at. She smirked when they went back to their unappetizing cafeteria food.

“Did Atobe agree, Tezuka?”

Tezuka looked up from his textbook and glanced at Ryoma with confusion. “Agree?”

Ryoma smirked. “To the offer you made him. You know . . . training with Hyotei for a week.” 

Ryoma sat back and watched as the table exploded with chatter. Momoshiro thought it was a horrible idea and Fuji had a wicked gleam in his eyes that could have meant anything from ‘I would love to crush them’ to ‘I wonder if Oishi would notice if I stole the piece of chocolate cake from his plate while he isn’t looking’. Tezuka had never called Atobe and suggested a competition between the two schools, but she knew that once the seed was planted he would. He loved playing against Atobe, and it helped Ryoma because of the lie she told Jiro this morning. Ryoma knew as soon as school was finished that Tezuka would call Atobe. She could already see the anticipation in his eyes.

She carefully rewrapped her empty bento and placed it in her desk when lunch was over. She glanced at the clock again and groaned. Two more hours of school and then tennis practice. She had never been this impatient to leave school since she had noticed that Karupin was missing. She breezed through English and handed in her assignment fifteen minutes early. It would have been sooner, but she had doodled for a while.

Ryoma watched the clouds float by and wondered if Jiro was sleeping. The thought of him snoring during a lecture made her smirk. If she could have gotten away with it she probably would have slept during school, too. English was her best subject and she sometimes corrected the teacher.

When the last bell finally rang, she stretched and gathered her books and bento and placed them in her bag. She dodged a group of running third years and walked to the women’s tennis locker room. She changed into her uniform and headed to the tennis court. Ryoma’s attention drifted during practice, and she was still able to defeat her opponent six games to three.

“Want to go get burgers today, Echizen?” Momoshiro asked, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She pushed it off, throwing him off balance.

Ryoma smirked at his disgruntled expression. “No. I have plans.”

“Plans?” Momoshiro announced loudly. A few of the regulars stopped what they were doing and looked over. “Since when do you have plans?”

Ryoma frowned. He made it seem like she didn’t have any friends. She only had a few and, okay, they were on the regulars, but it felt like a punch in the gut. “I have plans,” she gritted. She didn’t want to ruin her good mood by arguing with Momoshiro, but he annoyed her today. Ryoma didn’t like the thought of not being able to make friends, especially with thoughts of her empty house looming over her constantly.

Ryoma changed into street clothes and snickered when she saw Jiro leaning against the school entrance. His gaze found her amid the crowd of students and he beamed. “Echizen, you ready?”

Ryoma ignored the regulars following her and nodded. She was surprised when Jiro didn’t look at Fuji or even try to challenge him. He remained fixed on her. A blush crept onto her face at the intense stare. Few people looked at her that long without a reason. The last time had been because they recognized her as Samuari Nanjiroh’s daughter; her response hadn’t been pleasant. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet. “You’re right. Tezuka set up a play date with Hyotei.”

A choked off snort drew their attention to the teens watching the situation with fascination and suspicion. 

Fuji smiled disarmingly, which made Ryoma twitch. She knew what happened when Fuji smiled like that. “Tezuka has very brilliant ideas,” Fuji lied without hesitation.

Jiro nodded but didn’t look at him. He yawned and rubbed his eye with a balled fist. “I stayed awake during school,” he said, as if she should be proud of him. “And now I need a nap.”

Ryoma rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. If she didn’t lead him he would probably trip and fall off the curb into rush hour traffic. “Let’s go before I have to call Kabaji to carry you home.” Ryoma pulled him after her and didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t care what they thought about the way she was acting, especially since she was with a member of Hyotei. But she didn’t want to stick around and deal with their curious questions and Inui’s piercing stare as he wrote information in his notebook.

“You’re walking too fast,” Jiro protested. He tugged on her until she slowed down and matched his pace. 

She didn’t realize until a block later that their fingers were twined together. She glanced up and smirked at his beet red face. She squeezed his hand and smiled. They finished their walk in silence.

—X—

The call to her mom had been very short and disappointing. Ryoma wasn’t even sure if her mom had listened to the whole explanation before she agreed. The conversation put a damper on her mood for the rest of the night, though they tried to cheer her up. She mechanically shoved her clothes into a bag, grabbed Karupin and cat food and took another long bath after they got back from her house. 

An hour after Jiro went to bed, she climbed in again and couldn’t stop the sobs. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She cried into his shirt and didn’t stop for a long time. She hated that she felt weak, but for once in her life she wanted someone to protect her. She wanted to feel safe and loved. Her family loved her, but they were so busy all of the time. They didn’t have much time for her and with each passing day that she didn’t talk to them she felt numb. The silences on the phone grew longer and more pronounced. What was she supposed to say?

“I know she’s busy—”

Jiro’s hand tangled in her hair and the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. “It doesn’t matter. She could have chosen something different—she could have chosen you—and she didn’t.”

The words brought fresh tears, but Jiro was right. For years Ryoma wondered if there was something wrong with her. Nanjiroh returned to professional tennis because he missed the thrill that she couldn’t give him. Ryoga left for college. Nanako only stayed for a few months. And her mom was busy with work all of the time. They never chose her. 

—X—

The next few days followed with a similar routine. Ryoma would sneak into Jiro’s bed and they would wake up in each other’s arms. She didn’t know if Himiko knew, but the soft smile she had given Ryoma during breakfast that morning hinted at it. Ryoma was happy that Himiko approved of her. Ryoma had never given much thought to dating before meeting Jiro, though many boys had asked her. 

The thought of Jiro sent her heart racing. He made her feel feminine without the need for skirts or baubles. Her love and dedication for tennis was matched by his even though he slept constantly. She knew how excited he became when he played against a strong opponent. His entire body would light up like a Christmas tree.

Ryoma automatically tangled their fingers together as he walked her to school. Tonight was her last night at Jiro’s house. The thought made her stomach twist with fear and made her want to throw up. She had only spent a few days with his family, but she already felt like she had known them her entire life. They played games on Thursday nights, and watched a movie on Tuesdays. They teased each other and joked around. They talked about tennis occasionally, but it wasn’t the center of every conversation. Himiko would read funny jokes she had found off the internet, and Daisuke would purposely make the worst puns Ryoma had ever heard. And she loved them. 

For the first time in days, Ryoma wished that the day wouldn’t get over quickly. She wanted to spend as much time with them as she could. She forced herself to not look at the clock during school, though she could hear the tick-tock of the second hand. The sound of time slipping through her grasp was horrible. Lunch was spent discussing possible pair ups for the upcoming battle as Kikumaru liked to call it. Next week the entire Hyotei regulars would come to Seigaku and have unofficial matches. It was more convenient than trying to find transportation for Seigaku since they didn’t have a bus and Atobe did. Tennis practice went by fast because they spent half of it running laps and performing drills. Her legs would kill her tomorrow, but it was necessary to get stronger.

Ryoma had become used to Jiro walking her home. If she didn’t stay at his house anymore, did that mean Jiro wouldn’t walk her to and from school? Her house was on the other side of town and out of his way. The odds that he would give up more sleep to board a bus and walk her to school were slim. 

“You can stay longer.”

Ryoma desperately wanted to say yes, but she didn’t want to impose. She had already stayed an extra day. She knew that his parents liked her, but she was worried they would think she was in the way. She didn’t know if she could handle it. Ryoma smiled and shook her head. 

“I’ll be fine.” She could tell he didn’t look convinced, but he dropped the subject. 

Ryoma took comfort in his worry and the fact that she had his phone number programmed into her phone. If things got bad she could call him. She wondered when she had started relying on him so much and forgot the Seigaku regulars. They had offered to spend time with her in the past, but they didn’t know the full extent of her life at home. They didn’t know how debilitating the silence became at times and how she felt like she was living in a graveyard.

“They rented another movie tonight since you’re going home tomorrow,” Jiro said as he swung their joined hands. She noticed that it was a quirk of his.

Ryoma normally didn’t enjoy watching many movies, but she liked spending time with them. If she had to sit through a corny movie she would—though the last one had been really good. They finished their homework and helped out with dinner—green bean casserole, with mashed potatoes and roast—it was the first Western meal Himiko had cooked. Ryoma had wanted to try the casserole for months, ever since she had found the recipe online. The fact that Himiko remembered a remark she had made in passing three days ago meant the world to her.

Ryoma didn’t hesitate in snuggling against Jiro when he sat next to her on the couch. Ryoma glanced at his parents to see if they minded, but they smiled and stared at the TV. She relaxed into him and tried to follow the plotline of the film, while Jiro traced a pattern on her leg. He stopped part way through and laid his head on her lap after they adjusted their position. It was more comfortable and gave her room to stretch her legs. As the ending credits rolled, she waited for Jiro to move.

“I know you’re not sleeping.”

Jiro snorted against her jean-clad thigh. “I could be.” 

Ryoma rolled her eyes. “You snore.”

Jiro turned on his back and gave her a scandalized look. “No I don’t!”

Ryoma smirked at him. His expression was precious. “Like a freight train.”

“Why didn’t you wake me if I was keeping you awake?” he demanded.

“I-it didn’t bother me. The house would be too silent, otherwise.” Everyone knew she wasn’t just talking about where she was staying.

Jiro’s eyes grew serious as he stared at her, looking to see if she had any second thoughts about going home tomorrow, but he found none.

Ryoma didn’t realize she was toying with his hair until he caught her fingers and kissed them. A blush rushed to her cheeks and she shoved him off the couch. “Time for bed! Sleep! We should sleep.”

Jiro pouted from his position on the floor. “Five more minutes.”

Daisuke cackled from his winged back chair. “I never thought I’d see the day Jiro would refuse to go to bed. Even as a tyke he loved nap time more than going to the park.”

Ryoma laughed at the cute picture Daisuke painted. She sat back down as Daisuke told stories about Jiro for another hour and a half. Himiko brought out a photo album and showed her pictures of him growing up. Her favorite was of a six-year-old Jiro standing in the kitchen with flour all over him. He looked like a ghost. Apparently, he wanted to surprise Himiko with cookies and ended up dropping the bag of flour on the floor.

Ryoma couldn’t remember doing anything like that. Nanako had taught her how to make a simple bento at one point, but they had never made cookies or dinner together. She caressed Jiro’s cheek in the photo and wondered what life would have been like if her father hadn’t become a Pro again, and her mother decided to work from home. Much different, she hoped.

She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Ryoma couldn’t sleep no matter how hard she tried. Did she really want to go back to that empty house? Did she want to walk into the barren kitchen and make a meal for only one person? She would have Karupin, but Karupin could only do so much to stave off the loneliness. Ryoma looked at Jiro and wondered if whatever feelings they had would change. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but she knew if Jiro asked her out, she would say yes. 

—X—

Ryoma wondered how Himiko had convinced her to let Karupin stay with them. Himiko suggested that since she wouldn’t return home until later that evening, they would be more than happy to keep Karupin while Ryoma was at school and then drop her off later that night when Ryoma was situated.

She dropped her bags in the entryway and walked around the large house. She wandered into the living room and turned on the TV to give her background noise. She was used to someone talking and the absence of it was jarring. She did her homework at the kitchen table, and couldn’t help but compare it to the times Jiro and she worked on it together. Daisuke would explain something if they didn’t get it and Himiko made them cookies to munch on while they waited for dinner.

Ryoma flipped the page and scowled. It made no sense. “What doe—?” She stopped. No one was here but her. 

She slammed the book shut and wrenched open the fridge door. It was getting late and she needed to fix dinner. She randomly grabbed a few items and started chopping up the ingredients. The knife went blurry and wavered in her vision. Why was it this hard? She should be used to the silence. The canned laughter from the TV made her even more aware that the voices coming from the other room were fake. Nothing felt real in this house and she hated it! 

She glared at the onion she had been dicing and flung it across the room. She threw the celery next, followed by a tomato and cabbage. Ryoma slumped to the floor and gazed at the mess she had made. What was she doing here? Himiko and Daisuke had opened their home to her, and she had rejected them. Rejected Jiro. He had offered her safety from the silence and she had refused because she thought she could handle it. She couldn’t. And for the first time, she didn’t want to try.

Ryoma scrambled through her school bag and grabbed the phone like it was her only lifeline. She scrolled through her contacts and pressed send as soon as she got to Jiro. The ringing noise was loud in her ears and she relished the sound.

“Ryoma?”

Ryoma cut off a relieved sob. Her head banged against a cabinet door as she closed her eyes and listened to his panicked voice. It was the most beautiful thing she had heard in a very long time. “Will you come get me?”

“Of course! Where are you?” he demanded.

Ryoma smiled at his immediate and determined reply. She rattled off the address and closed the phone when she heard the dial tone. Jiro would be here soon. Everything would be fine. She curled into a ball and waited for him to arrive.

Ten minutes later, Ryoma could hear Jiro calling her name. She rose to her feet as soon as he rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. He paused and looked at the mess of vegetables in one corner, her homework strewn about the floor and Ryoma leaning against the cabinet near the sink. He stepped in front of her and cupped her face. 

“Are you okay?”

Ryoma nodded, and then shook her head. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was. She fell into his arms and inhaled his familiar scent. He smelled like sweat, rubber, and the cologne his dad had bought him for his birthday last year. 

“What happened?”

Ryoma didn’t need to look up to know what he was asking about, but she didn’t want to discuss her miniature breakdown. So she went with the only thing she could say. “Dinner.”

Jiro nodded as if that made sense, and maybe it did. He waited for her to grab her homework and new clothes, and then carried her out of the house to the waiting car despite her protests. Once she was ensconced in the car and buckled in, she smiled gratefully at both Himiko and Daisuke. 

“Thank you.”

Himiko patted her hand in comfort. “Don’t worry about it, dear. We’re glad you called, especially Jiro. He kept moping around the house, looking like a lost puppy.”

Ryoma grinned, because she was very glad that no one brought up her frantic call and wanted to talk about it. They simply accepted it and moved on as if she hadn’t been hysterical. “A puppy?” Ryoma teased, letting them distract her.

Jiro went boneless and slumped against her shoulder. “I wouldn’t say puppy.”

“Of course not.”

The ride home—because it was  _ home _ —was short. She immediately went upstairs and dropped her duffle bag on his bed. Ryoma leaned into Jiro when he came up behind her and nestled his chin on top of her head. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“It was so quiet, and I-I lost it. All I could think about was how vacant and fake everything felt. I missed Himiko and Daisuke. I missed watching movies and playing board games. I missed it. I missed  _ you _ .”

Jiro tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Mom’s talking to your mom about you staying longer. She’s determined to have you stay here permanently if your mom will allow it.”

Ryoma loved Jiro’s mom. She was amazing. Not many people would take in a random—or not so random—person off the streets and give them a place to stay. Ryoma turned around and kissed him. He tasted like butterscotch. She threaded her fingers in his hair and tilted her head so she could kiss him deeper. His lips were chapped, but she didn’t care. She loved that it was imperfect. Nothing between them so far had been easy.

They jumped apart when Himiko walked into the room unannounced. Himiko didn’t even blink as she started talking about the arrangement they made. “Your  _ mom _ said it would be okay for you to stay here. Her  _ only _ stipulation is that you agree to have dinner with her once a week.” Himiko’s tone didn’t leave any room for Ryoma or Jiro to doubt her opinion about Ryoma’s mother. Himiko didn’t like her.

—X—

Ryoma squealed like a girl when someone blew hot air into her ear. She glared at Jiro who was on the other side of the fence. What was he doing here? She noticed that the other Hyotei regulars and Seigaku regulars were staring in their direction and glared at them as well. She knew her reaction had been loud and uncharacteristic, but it was a private conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was today?” she demanded. 

“Hm. I must have forgotten. I had more important things on my mind.” The look he gave her made her flush when she remembered the kiss they shared. 

“You made me squeal. I hated squealing. It’s an annoying girly noise.” Ryoma hated it more than she hated giggling. It grated on her nerves when she could hear the regulars’ fanclub shouting and cheering during the matches. It was distracting.

Jiro laughed. “I hate to break this to you, Ryoma, but you  _ are _ a girl.”

“I know.” She pointed her racket at him. “Don’t make me do it again.”

“Hey, Jiro, stop flirting with your girlfriend and play your match!” Atobe yelled.

Ryoma smirked when Jiro ignored Atobe and continued talking to her. “He might not let you play Fuji if you don’t get over there,” she warned. She knew how much Jiro wanted to play Fuji and find a way to defeat his new counter.

“He wants to play Tezuka and he won’t be able to if he plays Fuji,” Jiro stated and Ryoma nodded in agreement. Atobe was jealous of people who played against Tezuka. It was highly amusing to watch the jealously bloom on his face when Tezuka was forced to play someone else. Atobe claimed that Tezuka was his rival and therefore had exclusive tennis rights. Ryoma personally thought that Atobe liked losing.

Ryoma knew that Atobe would get angry if Jiro continued to ignore him for much longer, so she tried to convince him to just get his match over with. He was going to walk her home anyway and she would watch as much of the match as she could during her practice. 

“If you don’t go play Fuji, I won’t sleep with you later.” Ryoma hadn’t even considered the connotations of saying that until Momoshiro gasped. She didn’t bother correcting him. They both knew what she meant.

Jiro leaned more weight on the fence and said with a smug smirk, “You wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

Ryoma smiled. He was right. It was impossible for her to sleep without him next to her. “You still owe me for earlier.” She wasn’t going to let him get off scot free for forcing her to make that embarrassing noise.

“What do you want?”

Ryoma said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Ice cream.”

Jiro shook his head with a soft expression. “Only you would want ice cream in October.” He yelped when Kabaji picked him up and carried away. “I’ll take you out after school!”

Ryoma forced herself to look away and concentrate on her own match, even though she could hear the teasing and ribbing coming from the guys’ side. She pulled her hat lower over her eyes when a loud remark made her blush and miss the ball.

—X—

Ryoma licked her double scoop green tea ice cream. It was her favorite flavor and only one place she knew of had it in store all year round. Jiro had chosen huckleberry. She had tried it, but the berry flavor was too strong for her taste. They sat on a bench in the park and watched children feed pigeons and the few ducks in the pond. Their twined hands rested between them as they slurped their ice cream and talked about everything and anything that came to mind.

“Your dad’s Samurai Nanjiroh? I guess that explains why you almost never mention him.”

Ryoma nodded as she took another bite. “He was hardly ever home when I was a kid, and now it feels awkward talking about him—as if he’s a stranger or something. He retired when I was born and I guess . . . having a girl wasn’t everything he wanted it to be.”

He bumped her shoulder. “I think you’re an awesome girl and a great tennis player.”

She smiled at his reassurance. He always knew how to make her feel better, or at least ways to make her confront her feelings and help her overcome them. “Are you sure it isn’t the opposite?”

Jiro shrugged and ate the bottom of his cone. “If you’d prefer. But personally, just between you and me, I’d rather date an awesome girl than an awesome tennis player.”

Ryoma liked that answer too. “Does this count as a date?”

Jiro wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. She felt him nodded against her head. “Yes it does. We talked about our parents, likes, dislikes, and I bought you ice cream. It definitely counts! It also means that you should kiss me.”

Ryoma rolled her eyes at his attempt to get her to kiss him again. They hadn’t kissed since the first time, and she didn’t want to do it in front of children in the middle of a park. She waited until Jiro’s mouth was almost touching hers, and then she shoved the rest of her ice cream into his face. Ryoma didn’t know what made her do something so impulsive and reckless, but she hadn’t stopped herself. A huge dent the size of his nose was in her cone and his face had green splotches on it.

“I don’t kiss on a first date.” Ryoma giggled when he scowled and started tickling her sides in revenge. 

She pushed his hands away and ran around the park. The date lasted three hours longer than planned because it had turned into a game of hide-and-seek until it grew too dark to play. They arrived home later that night, in stitches from laughing so hard, and with chapped faces from the cold. She never finished her ice cream.

—X—

Jiro sat with the regulars during her match, and when he unfurled the banner he made the night before, her heart melted. He came to cheer for her and that was more than what her family had done. Nanako had attended one match when she was in middle school, but she hadn’t understood the rules and a reporter next to her had to explain everything, so Nanako hadn’t really watched her play.

Her match wasn’t an easy win. Even though the girl had looked worn out before the match was even half over she had rallied near the end and almost snagged it out from under Ryoma. 

“Great match,” Jiro said, holding out a towel and water bottle

Ryoma nodded and gulped the cold water. Her limbs were sore and she felt sweaty and gross. She was grateful that Jiro didn’t mind her looking like crap. She didn’t care. She had won her match! They would be advancing further in the competition and that was all that mattered. She might not be strong enough to play against Tezuka or Momoshiro, but she could hold her own against many players. She was proud that she had cultivated the muscle that many women weren’t able to. It gave her an advantage against her female rivals, and allowed her to compete with the boys occasionally too.

Ryoma quirked an eyebrow. “Victory hug?” Ryoma grinned when he pulled her into his arms, without complaint, though she her knew her shirt was soaked with sweat. She loved that about him. 

“You look tired. You should take a nap when we get home.”

Ryoma laughed at Jiro’s dramatic announcement. She wasn’t tired in the least. He just wanted an excuse to hold her, but maybe a short nap would be good.

—X—

“Atobe’s going to kick you off the team if you keep doing this,” Ryoma whispered to her boyfriend, though she found it highly entertaining to mess with the Monkey King’s mind.

“I’m too fabulous to be kicked off the tennis team. Look at my prowess!” Jiro said, mimicking Atobe. She snorted at the impression. It sounded almost identical. How long had he been practicing that? “I order you to stop laughing. It is cruel to laugh at someone as magnificent as I!” Jiro said, continuing his charade.

Ryoma wanted to warn him that Atobe was standing right behind him, but she couldn’t stop laughing. It was too funny. 

Atobe’s eye twitched. “Did you say something funny, Jiro?”

Jiro yawned and stretched. “No. All this hard training hasn’t let me get enough sleep.”

Ryoma mentally laughed. Jiro still got at least ten hours of sleep a night. Just because he wasn’t sleeping as much during the day he would pretend—she thought he was pretending at least—to be exhausted and crash so he wouldn’t have to do anything. She knew when he was awake and lazy. His snore was quieter, as if he was trying to fake it.

“Stop joking around, Jiro; we still need to discuss when we are leaving next week.”

Ryoma’s heart stopped. “Leaving?” She looked at Jiro hoping that he would deny it, but he remained silent. “Why are you leaving?”

“Coach Sakabe thinks it would be perfect if we did training for two weeks outside of Tokyo. Similar to what Seigaku did four years ago,” Jiro said.

Two weeks. Jiro would be gone for two weeks. The thought boggled her mind. How would she last for two weeks without Jiro sleeping right next to her? 

Atobe snorted. “You didn’t tell your girlfriend?”

Jiro glared at him and Atobe stared in surprise. Jiro never lost his temper. He was easygoing and resembled Kikumaru in the fact that it was difficult—read impossible—to get them riled enough for it to show on their face. “I was going to tell you tonight, after dinner.”

Ryoma’s good mood plummeted even further. “I have dinner with my mom tonight.”

Jiro growled in frustration and nodded. “Talk after?”

Ryoma didn’t want to have dinner with her mom. She knew it would be awkward and neither of them would know what to say, but it was a condition for to live at Jiro’s house so she had to go. Jiro was already upset about having to leave for two weeks, and she didn’t want to add her emotional baggage to it. 

“Okay.”

—X—

Ryoma had been right. The conversation was stilted and they were halfway through the meal when her mom’s cell phone rang. She apologized and said she had to take the call before looking at the caller ID. Ryoma spitefully wanted to know if her mom had asked someone to call just in case the dinner went bad. Ryoma left the restaurant before her mom could protest. 

Ryoma walked the streets for a while and smiled when she ended up in the place where she had met Jiro weeks ago. It felt longer than weeks, months perhaps, but certainly not weeks. She had never expected that someone would recognize her and make sure she had a place to go. 

“Ryoma!” Jiro shouted as he ran toward her. “Are you okay? Your mom called and said you walked out.”

“She started talking to someone during dinner. Work. I didn’t think it was important enough to stay.”

Jiro cursed and hugged her. Ryoma clung to him. She knew that her mom wouldn’t change, but she had hoped that they would be able to get through one dinner without work interfering. Ryoma was wrong.

“C’mon. Mom has hot cocoa and cookies waiting for us at home.”

—X—

Jiro had been gone for one day, and Ryoma could already feel the difference in the house. There wasn’t as much laughter, and the sound of the TV did nothing to block that from her mind. It only enhanced it. Ryoma normally did everything with Jiro when they were home. They had settled into a routine that suited them and they stuck with it. Ryoma helped Himiko cook while Jiro set the table. Jiro would get the bathroom first thing in the morning because he took less time and that way they wouldn’t be late. They brushed their teeth with their hips and elbows bumping each other. 

The couch was too big and uncomfortable, and the chair he always sat in during mealtime was a constant reminder that he wasn’t there. Even the plate he normally used was sitting in the cupboard as if waiting for its master to return. His shoes that were normally haphazardly stacked near the door were neatly placed in a cubbyhole in the coat closet.

Ryoma flopped over in bed and watched the wall. Karupin was nestled against her, but it wasn’t the same. The sheets were too itchy, and her pillow wasn’t fluffy enough. The blankets made her feel like she was in an oven, but if she took one off she got chilly. The bed was too large without him in it. Ryoma ran a hand over his side of the bed and sighed. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

—X—

Ryoma mechanically ate her breakfast and got ready for school with little enthusiasm. Jiro wouldn’t walk her to school, or pick her up after practice. The world felt two-dimensional and colder. Ten days and counting. 

—X—

Ryoma took four cookies from the cookie jar on the counter and poured a large glass of milk. She wandered over to the table and curled up in her chair. It was four in the morning and she had given up falling to sleep hours ago. She forced herself to not look at his chair as she snuggled into his sweatshirt she had pilfered from his dresser. She knew he wouldn’t mind. The smell had allowed her a few hours of sleep yesterday night and she had hoped it would work again, but apparently it had only been a one-time deal. Ryoma’s brain knew the difference between a sweatshirt and her boyfriend. They were nowhere alike.

“Still can’t sleep?” Himiko whispered as she entered the kitchen in a bathrobe and slippers. She poured a glass of milk and snagged a cookie from Ryoma’s plate.

Ryoma snorted. “All I seem to do is make it worse.” Her head rested on the table. “I can’t even call him, because Atobe forced them to leave their cell phones behind! And if I don’t get any sleep, I’ll go insane!” Jiro had only been gone for six days and she already desperately wanted him back. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so tired, and I can’t sleep because Jiro isn’t here! I hate it. I can’t concentrate in school, I missed my serve today, and I forgot to eat lunch. I’m a mess.”

“Who loves my little boy with every fiber of her being! When Jiro brought you home, you were sopping wet and shivering. Jiro never brought home friends before, because that Atobe fellow always takes them places. So when you showed up I  _ knew _ you were special to him.”

“Really? Maybe he was worried I’d get pneumonia,” Ryoma protested. The thought of Jiro considering her special made her glad, and then hurt when she remembered that he wasn’t there.

Himiko nodded fervently. “While you were in the bath, Jiro brought down his clothes, and I asked him why he brought you home. He said, ‘Because I had to.’ Nothing more. Just that. Jiro doesn’t notice much in life, because he loves to sleep almost as much if not more than he loves tennis. But you . . . you changed something in him. You make him dream when he is awake.”

—X—

Ryoma stumbled over the words as they swam on the page. She squinted to read them, but they refused to remain still. She sat back in her seat once she was finished bumbling through the poem that should have been easy for her to read. Her English teacher kept giving her worried glances as she flubbed words that used to roll so effortlessly off her tongue. 

Ryoma looked at the date on the board and slumped further in her seat. She closed her eyes and pretended that it would make her feel better. Jiro had only been gone for a week, and she was breaking with every day that passed.

—X—

“Ryoma, what’s wrong?” Oishi asked as they all took their spots at the lunch table. Ryoma knew she looked dreadful. She didn’t normally wear makeup, but the dark bags under her eyes would have looked worse if she hadn’t tried to cover them up.

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” she muttered as she bit into her plain riceball. Her stomach had been upset the past two days and she had only been able to keep bland foods down. 

“Nightmares?” Fuji asked concerned. Ryoma forced herself to eat the rest of her lunch and shook her head, though it was partly true. The dreams about being stuck in a dark empty house occasionally haunted her, but she would have preferred that to no sleep at all.

“Missing your loverboy?” Kikumaru teased. 

Ryoma didn’t hold back the snarl. “Drop it.” Ryoma was in a worse mood for the rest of the day after Kikumaru’s thoughtless comment. And when Ryoma missed every ball the captain sent her way, she walked out of practice and didn’t bother changing into her school uniform, before heading home. The pain wasn’t worth it. Four days until Jiro was home.

—X—

Ryoma wore his Hyotei jacket to school the next day and slept for half an hour during English. Her teacher gave everyone a test and let her sleep through it. He explained later that she would have aced it anyway so it would have been a waste of her time.

—X—

Ryoma cancelled the dinner with her mom and stayed in bed. She didn’t want to deal with being ignored and talked over because her mom didn’t think what she had to say was important or interesting enough.

—X—

Ryoma nibbled her nails as she stared at the clock. Ten more minutes and school would be over and Jiro would be home. Ryoma knew the odds of him being home by the time she got out of school were rare, but that didn’t stop the hope from building in her chest and taking over. She needed to see him. She needed to wrap her arms around him and smell his cologne that wasn’t on a sweatshirt next to her pillow. Ryoma smiled when the teacher dismissed them early. Ryoma tried to cover up how badly she needed sleep so Jiro wouldn’t get worried when he saw her, but she knew it hadn’t done a good enough job. Her captain had given her the next week off to recover and the regulars kept trying to sneak her more food when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

How had Jiro faired? Was he able to get any sleep or had he tossed and turned during the night, wishing for her to be pressed against him. A part of her wished he had missed her as much as she had, but she knew the horrible toll it would take on his body if he didn’t get enough rest. He would probably fall into a coma and not wake up for three days, which is what she planned to do when he got back.

He was waiting for her when she got to the entrance. Tears sprung to her eyes as she almost ran toward him. She threw herself into his arms and choked on a sob. He was here! He was finally home, and in her arms. She plastered herself against his chest and refused to let go. She would never let him go again. It was too hard. She missed him too much. 

“I missed you!” Ryoma whispered as he peppered her hair with kisses. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

Ryoma smiled through her tears as he rubbed her back and held her as if his life depended on it—and it did. Jiro’s eyes were puffy from sleepless nights—many sleepless nights, and he looked as if he would collapse at any moment. But he still came to Seigaku to walk her home. 

She grabbed his hands and pulled him in the direction of home, laughing as he yawned. “Let’s go take a nap.”

He smiled at her tenderly and kissed her. “That sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr if you’re interested.


End file.
